A First For Me That Should Never Be

Her mom called to cancel that day's appointment.

Her tears could be heard falling from her eyes onto the phone.  Her voice barely audible above the crying.

They saw her daughter's doctor, it wasn't good.

It was difficult to understand her through the tears.

Fatal.

Nothing can be done.

Won't be able to learn.

Slowly deteriorating.

Die between 6 and 12. 

Siblings with a chance.

Won't know for a week.

The doctor hung up the phone and crossed the little girl off her schedule. 

She looked up the disease.

Dementia.

Feeding tubes.

Neurons.

Lipids.

So hard to understand.

So young. 

Then the tears came to her too.  Flowing freely over a child not her own. 

Falling onto the girl's chart, thick with reports of lost skills. 

The tears came to me too.  Slowly at first, because I have no experience.

It's a foreign concept. 

Children die. 

In a few weeks, when the shock has worn off, we will see her again. 

We will play and sing and enjoy every moment.

Because we can be sad later.